


if home is where the heart is (then we're all just fucked)

by rottenboy (TechnicalTragedy)



Series: arrangement [4]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Epilogue, Forgiveness, Kissing, M/M, Promises, Ten Years Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 15:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9190238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TechnicalTragedy/pseuds/rottenboy
Summary: Íþróttaálfurinn is trying to be kind again and, finally, it's what Glanni wants.





	

**Author's Note:**

> title from 27 by fall out boy
> 
> sorry no sex in the last part :/

“Still up to your tricks, I see,” an all-too-familiar voice says from behind Glanni.

 

He allows himself a brief smile before he trains his expression, straightens his posture, turns to his oldest enemy. “You look good, Íþróttaálfurinn,” Glanni says.

 

It's true. The years have been treating him well, and Íþróttaálfurinn looks no different than he had when Glanni had last seen him nearly ten years ago. If anything, it seems like the elf has put on more mass, getting bulkier as he's matured. Glanni knows he's changed, grown more wiry and scrappy from living in the streets between schemes, from keeping away from anyone who came near him. Looking on Íþróttaálfurinn now, Glanni feels like he's being taken back to their last fateful meeting in the hot air balloon. Speaking honestly, he's missed this.

 

“Regular exercise and eating healthy foods will do that,” Íþróttaálfurinn says. “You, on the other hand-”

 

Glanni cuts him off with a laugh, slinging his stolen loot over a shoulder and popping his hip. “I know how I look, thank you very much. It's hard to eat well when you're living like a rat.”

 

Something like guilt crosses Íþróttaálfurinn's face, and he approaches Glanni by a few steps. “Glæpur, if you've been having trouble, you could have come to me. You know I would've helped however I was able.”

 

“Would you have?” Glanni says, sharp. “Because I remember a different Íþróttaálfurinn than the one you show to everyone else. The you I know would never help a _villain_.”

 

“You and I both know that I stopped seeing you as a villain a long time ago,” Íþróttaálfurinn says.

 

A beat of silence passes, where Glanni stares at Íþróttaálfurinn warily, jaw clenched.

 

Glanni shakes his head, looking down at the ground. “You have a funny way of showing that.”

 

There's another pause, fueled by years of separation and a gap too wide to bridge. Íþróttaálfurinn draws near and, softer than Glanni remembers him being, takes Glanni's limp hand in his own. “I used to be confused,” Íþróttaálfurinn admits. “I didn't know what I meant to you, until that last day. When I got the courage to tell you _my_ truth, you were gone.” He laughs, gentle. “It's hard to chase a rat in his own sewer.”

 

“That never stopped you before,” Glanni says, voice distant but fingers tightening on Íþróttaálfurinn's. “It's been ten years. Don't you think we've outgrown each other?”

 

Íþróttaálfurinn's other hand rises to Glanni's cheek, the two of them looking at each other honestly for the first time in an eternity. “Heroes can never outgrow their villains.”

 

Glanni frowns. “Usually one of them dies before that can happen.”

 

“But we aren't,” Íþróttaálfurinn says. “Doesn't that count for something?”

 

“I don't think that that's my decision to make,” Glanni murmurs. “You know how I feel. I tried to give you space, time. Ten years is a little long, but you're here now. That tells me something, but how am I to know if it's the right thing?”

 

Íþróttaálfurinn quirks an eyebrow, looking amused. “That depends. What does my being here tell you?”

 

Glanni swallows, and the force of his gaze chases amusement out of Íþróttaálfurinn like nothing else could. “I don't want to get my hopes up now, not after so long,” he says.

 

Íþróttaálfurinn shakes his head. “I think you have the right idea.”

 

“Do you, uh, could you tell me if I'm correct?” Glanni says. “Because if I'm not, I would rather cut my losses and leave while the going's good.”

 

“Don't leave again,” Íþróttaálfurinn says. “What do you want me to say?”

 

Glanni pushes at his chest without real intent. “You're being obtuse,” he accuses.

 

Íþróttaálfurinn grins. “Me? Never. Do you want me to profess my love? Ask you to marry me? Whisk you away to a fancy hotel and make love to you all night? Fuck you right here in this dirty alleyway like all the other times?”

 

“Just be truthful,” Glanni says.

 

“Truthfully?” Íþróttaálfurinn says. He tugs Glanni closer, so their chests press together and Íþróttaálfurinn has to crane his neck far upwards in order to maintain their eye contact. “I wouldn't object if you decided to stay with me forever.”

 

Glanni hums. “Forever is a long time. Are you sure about that?”

 

Íþróttaálfurinn pulls him into a kiss, surely getting Glanni's neon purple lipstick on him in the process, but he could never be bothered by something that helped unify the two of them. “Ten years without you was torture. I don't think I could stand another day of it.”

 

“What if I don't want to stay with you forever?” Glanni says.

 

“That would suck,” Íþróttaálfurinn says, “and I would respect your decision anyway. I'm feeling giving.”

 

“I don't think that we _can_ stay together forever, you know,” Glanni says. “I think that this world isn't made for two people like us to be happy and live happily ever after. I'm not sure anybody gets that kind of ending in real life.”

 

Íþróttaálfurinn shrugs. “Then we'll just have to wait and see, won't we? If it doesn't happen in this world, maybe we'll get it right next time around.”

 

Glanni huffs. “You sound confident that there'll be a next time. Do you know something I don't?”

 

“Oh, it's just a feeling I have,” Íþróttaálfurinn says. “Sometimes that's better than knowledge.”

 

Glanni kisses him to shut him up, feeling giddy and tingly like he's a child with his first crush all over again. He's not sure if all their words are just that, and maybe this will all fall apart tomorrow morning, but for now he can breathe comfortably, safe in the knowledge that they have forever and ever to become worthy of each other.

 

Íþróttaálfurinn takes them to his hotel, Glanni leaving behind his stolen goods as a kind of late apology. Their clothes hit the ground almost as soon as they're both through the door, hands wandering as they relearn each other. Íþróttaálfurinn peels Glanni's protective layers away, getting right down to his blood and soul, and Glanni touches Íþróttaálfurinn to the words of an unspoken prayer, wanting all of him for as long as they can stand each other. A selfish part of him hopes they'll at least last long enough that Íþróttaálfurinn will hurt when Glanni's gone.

 

They kiss for what feels like ages, and then Íþróttaálfurinn gets up and moves away, sudden and panicked. He runs ragged fingers through his hair and keeps cutting glances at the confused Glanni.

 

“Maybe I should stop this,” he says. “Maybe I should just go.”

 

Glanni looks across the room at him, the distance a yawning abyss between them, and takes a moment to admire the elf's bare skin out on display against the plush backdrop of the nicest hotel room in LazyTown. Something sad settles in his chest at the thought of what could be. “Why don't you?” Glanni asks. He looks away quickly, but feels Íþróttaálfurinn's gaze on him like an accusation.

 

There's a long silence, long enough that Glanni meets Íþróttaálfurinn's eyes despite the heat rising in his cheeks. Íþróttaálfurinn swallows visibly and presses his lips together. “I don't know,” he says.

 

Just like that, Íþróttaálfurinn is closed off again. Glanni can't have the _Conversation_ that's been lurking in the corners of the room ever since Íþróttaálfurinn led them both in here after their whispered promises in the dark alley. But he can try.

 

“Talk to me,” Glanni says. “Forever, right?”

 

Íþróttaálfurinn's eyes go wide. He gnaws at his bottom lip, then nods cautiously. He sits back down.

 

Glanni drags himself up into a sitting position at the head of the bed, looking as nonjudgmental as possible while he tries to fold his ungainly legs up to his chest. “I know we don't really do the whole mushy feelings thing, or whatever, but, talk to me.”

 

Íþróttaálfurinn snorts derisively, standing up like he's going to leave, but he doesn't even make it to the crumpled pile of his clothes before he sighs and slumps back down onto the bed. “It's just,” he pauses. “I've been thinking a lot.”

 

“About us?” Glanni asks.

 

“Yeah,” Íþróttaálfurinn says, not looking at Glanni.

 

Glanni settles back more comfortably against the pillows and waits for Íþróttaálfurinn to continue.

 

Íþróttaálfurinn takes a moment to collect his thoughts, then presses on. “I'm pathetic. It took me ten years to work up the nerve to face you again after you bared your emotions to me, and I know I blamed it on not knowing where you were, but I could find you. It'd be so easy. I could've found you a million times over in those ten years.”

 

“What stopped you?” Glanni says. He feels like he shouldn't ask, but curiosity burns at him.

 

“I don't know,” Íþróttaálfurinn says, “I still don't know.”

 

Glanni looks at him, really _looks_ at him. Íþróttaálfurinn looks wrecked. He's good at hiding this kind of stuff, but they have this truce going right now, and he seems to be letting his walls down. If Glanni didn't know better, he'd think Íþróttaálfurinn was going to cry. “You were afraid, it's okay to admit it.”

 

Íþróttaálfurinn sits up and runs a hand through his hair, showing off the pointed ears he never lets Glanni mess with. “I don't want to love you,” he says miserably. “I want to hate you, to tear your throat out and skin you. I want to _strangle_ you until you don't have any breath left. But I, I'm a fucking- I'm an idiot and I'm weak and, and, and _fuck_.” He mashes the heels of his hands into his eyes, letting out a grunt. “I want you. I love you and it's ruining me, has been for years.”

 

“I have that effect on people,” Glanni says, but the tone is all wrong. His throat is tight, that old fear of Íþróttaálfurinn rearing its ugly head. He isn't scared of him anymore, but in this moment Glanni thinks maybe he should be.

 

“Do you love me?” Íþróttaálfurinn asks abruptly. “I know you said you did in the hot air balloon, but I don't think I can take anything that was said that day as truth. We weren't in a good place, then.”

 

Glanni scoots toward him, the blankets getting pulled along with him, and he wraps his arms around Íþróttaálfurinn's thick torso, the bulk of his muscles inexplicably comforting. “I'm pretty sure I do,” Glanni says. “I don't know how to love someone, but I think being with you is what it feels like.”

 

“If we do this, you won't leave?” Íþróttaálfurinn asks. He's so vulnerable, laying it all on the line, and the cruel parts of Glanni want to crush his hopes and demolish him.

 

But Glanni doesn't listen to those parts of himself so much anymore.

 

“I won't leave,” he promises. “I'll never leave you again.”

 

“Even if you get bored of me?”

 

Glanni giggles, pulling his elf closer and pressing kisses into his neck. “I could never be bored of you.”

 

Íþróttaálfurinn turns in his arms, nudging Glanni up into his lap and kissing over his chest. “I don't believe that,” he says.

 

“I'll prove it to you, then,” Glanni says. “One day at a time.”

 

“Yeah?” Íþróttaálfurinn says, eyes wide and filled with fondness.

 

Glanni grins and leans down to kiss him, relishing in the fact that he's allowed to do so, that Íþróttaálfurinn won't hit him for it, won't punish him or hurt him or hate him for it. “Yeah,” Glanni says, and it's honest.

 

“The years changed us,” Íþróttaálfurinn admits. “I used to hate you.”

 

Glanni shrugs. “I know. I did too. I think we grew up, somewhere along the way.”

 

“Growing up? You?” Íþróttaálfurinn says, stroking his hands down Glanni's back.

 

“I'm as surprised by it as you are,” Glanni says. “I never though the day would come, but look at us. If this isn't progress, I don't know what is.”

 

Íþróttaálfurinn puts his head to Glanni's chest, listening to his heartbeat. “I think I've grown, too. This feels better than, uh, what we used to do.”

 

“Does it? You don't want to hit me anymore?” Glanni says. It's mostly a joke, but that seed of truth sits on his tongue, anxiety for the answer creeping up his throat.

 

“I'm sorry I did that,” Íþróttaálfurinn says. “You didn't deserve that. I don't know why you put up with it for so long.”

 

Glanni pets through Íþróttaálfurinn's hair while he mulls over his answer. “I thought that I _did_ deserve it,” he says at length. “I wanted that, back then, someone to hurt me and make me pay for what I'd done. I think I'm too old for that, now. I'm just tired.”

 

Íþróttaálfurinn kisses his chest again in apology. “Me too,” he says.

 

The night sounds around them are quiet in LazyTown, nothing at all what Glanni is used to, but with Íþróttaálfurinn wrapped around him, both of them entirely different from the angry kids they used to be, Glanni thinks that maybe he would like to get used to this kind of quiet. He has the rest of forever to do so, right?

 

He'll take his time.

 

**Author's Note:**

> a sappy, sentimental way to end a weird, most of the time fucked-up series. i wanted to end on a happy note but you can consider this more of an epilogue than a final part? idk but toxic relationships and unhealthy codependency are Not Good and a relationship like the one in this series is not a good one so dont think this is me excusing that?
> 
> i'm just gonna stand in my truth which is, i like happy endings and im a sucker for love and heartfelt goop so sorry the grossness got lost along the way but i just want happy boys :( i was gonna end it differently (read: it was gonna be a lot less happy) but when i wrote it out it didn't feel good to me and i couldn't bring myself to finish it because i hated it, so.
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this epilogue of sorts and if you didnt, well, whoops.


End file.
